


The Concussion

by uofmdragon



Series: CC Trope Bingo [20]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Football, Alternate Universe - High School, Head Injury, M/M, Phil makes Clint seek medical attention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-13 20:00:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28534062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uofmdragon/pseuds/uofmdragon
Summary: Clint takes a nasty fall on the stairs and Phil has to deal the myriad of reasons that Clint doesn't want to get checked out.
Relationships: Clint Barton/Phil Coulson
Series: CC Trope Bingo [20]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1490282
Comments: 13
Kudos: 66





	The Concussion

**Author's Note:**

> Written for CCTrope Bingo. Beta by Endrega
> 
> Trope: Phil makes Clint go to Medical  
> AU: Highschool  
> AU: Football

Phil glanced worriedly at Clint. The other boy was unmoving from where he'd fallen on the steps.

"Clint?" he questioned, but there was no response.

"Think Coulson," Phil muttered to himself, trying to recall first aid training. "Is he breathing?" He glanced down and yes! Clint was still breathing. Actually, he didn't see any blood. He peered carefully around at the back of Clint's head. No, no blood. Phil breathed a sigh of relief and reached for his phone as Clint started groaning.

"Hey!" Phil said, as Clint's eyes fluttered open. Phil sat heavily against the stairwell.

"Oof," Clint said, starting to push himself up. "I'm okay."

"I don't know if you should be moving," Phil said. "You were…"

"I'm fine, head hurts a bit," Clint said. "Must have bumped it."

"No," Phil said, looking at Clint's eyes. "You fell down the stairs."

"I did?" Clint asked, face scrunching up in confusion as he glanced around. "Huh?"

"Who's the president?"

Clint glanced at him, arching an eyebrow. "Why are you asking me that?"

"Because you hit your head and didn't wake up! You could have a concussion!"

"I don't have a concussion." Clint said, starting to get up and wobbling slightly. "I just bumped my head."

"That's how you get a concussion," Phil said, standing up to support him. "I think we need to go to a walk-in clinic."

"I'm not going to a walk-in," Clint said, pulling away. "C'mon, we need to study. We've got that… test."

"What test?" Phil asked, eyes narrowing, because Clint was objecting an awful lot.

Clint looked at him. "Don't play dumb, we've got a test."

"What's the subject?" Phil asked. He swallowed, because he could tell Clint was not happy with Phil's persistence.

"Babe, I've got to study," Clint said, grabbing the railing to head up the stairs to Phil's room, which was the opposite direction of where Clint had been going when he'd fallen. They'd been studying at the dining room table. Clint had gone upstairs to use the bathroom and fallen on his way down.

"We're studying at the table," Phil said softly. "We get distracted in my room, remember?"

Clint paused, before glancing back at him and nodding. "Habit."

Phil nodded as they headed back to the table. He let Clint get back into his book as he googled concussion symptoms and mentally swore: memory loss, headache, dizziness: all signs that Clint had shown since his fall. He glanced at his boyfriend, rubbing at his eyes and then looking away. Probably some blurry vision or concentration issues.

"Clint," Phil started.

Clint glanced over at him. "Yeah?"

"If you had a concussion…"

"I don't have a concussion."

"I know, but if you did, what would be so bad about that?"

Clint sighed. "I'd be out for the game on Friday."

"There are other games."

"The big scouts are coming to this one, if I wanna get a scholarship, then… I need to play," Clint pointed out. "Football is my ticket out of this town."

Phil nodded. "But if you do…"

"I don't."

"And I'm not saying you do, but _if_ you do, then you could make it worse and…" Phil hesitated, before deciding. No, he was not going to mention that multiple concussions could lead to CTE and increased aggression. He was not going to insinuate that Clint could turn out like his father. That was not a card that he was going to use. "And affect you long term."

"Yeah, well, if I don't play, what's the point of long term?" Clint asked.

"What do you mean, what's the point?" Phil asked.

"I mean, if I don't play, I'm not smart enough to get into a top school like you with just my grades. You go to college without me and…"

"And?" Phil asked, frowning.

"You meet someone smarter, handsomer, better, and I don't get a chance to fight to keep you."

Phil blinked. "Sweetheart, no, there is no one else."

"You don't know that. You know how many high school sweethearts actually stay together for the rest of their lives? Not many."

"I'm not going to…"

"I, at least, want to be able to fight for you," Clint muttered.

"Hey," Phil said, getting Clint to look at him with sad eyes. "I'm dull and boring, you're amazing. You could have anyone you want. Why the hell would you want to shackle yourself to me?"

"Because you're not dull and boring," Clint started, eyebrow furrowing. "You're passionate, even if I don't get what you're talking about, I admire it. You're kind and, fuck, you're a…" he put up his hands and half-heartedly punched the air.

"Jiu Jitsu?"

"Yeah, a jiu jitsu badass," Clint said.

"Okay, babe," Phil said. "We both have no plans to break up with one another. We both want long term, but we need to make sure your head makes it to long term. Please? You're showing a lot of signs and I'm worried about you."

Clint sighed. "Yeah, yeah, let's go."

Phil smiled, getting up and going to grab his keys. Clint trudged after him.

*

Phil sighed as he wrote his parents a note. Clint's family situation was never the best and sometimes he would crash at Phil's. Phil's parents were fine with it, so long as the door remained open. Phil explained about the fall and Clint's concussion, because he was right and that the doctor had said rest and not to do anything that aggravated Clint's symptoms. There was more testing that needed to be done, but that would have to wait until later. He hesitated, before adding that they tried to call Clint's foster family, but there'd been no answer.

Phil bit his lip, before adding, he used his emergency credit card to pay for the treatment. He added that Clint was upstairs in Phil's room with the door closed, to keep things dark. Please be quiet when coming to check on them and keep the lights off. Once that was complete, Phil grabbed a few protein bars and a couple of bottles of water and headed upstairs. Then Clint would only have to go to the bathroom down the hall, no stairs. He set the food and water on his desk and then climbed into bed with Clint.

Clint grunted and then curled around Phil, head coming to rest on Phil's chest. Phil wrapped his arms around him, sighing softly.

"You brought food up here, didn't you?" Clint asked.

"Course I did," Phil said. "And water. Left my parents a note."

"We're going to get in trouble," Clint murmured.

"For what?" Phil asked, stroking Clint's back.

"For having your door closed, should be opened, Phil," Clint said.

"No," Phil said. "Concussion, remember? Less stimuli. We'll try introducing things to you tomorrow, okay?"

"Okay," Clint said. "My head really hurts."

"I know, babe, I know," Phil said, softly. "Get some sleep."

His parents might be upset, but more likely at the money Phil had used for Clint. He'd kept receipts in the hopes that Clint could submit it to his foster family's insurance, but there were no guarantees. Honestly, he just hoped that his parents would let Phil stay home from school tomorrow to take care of Clint.


End file.
